


Visions of Blood

by stardropsapphic



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Nightmares, OCAngstAndFluffWeek2019, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 04:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20632802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropsapphic/pseuds/stardropsapphic
Summary: Elaine is haunted by the past.





	Visions of Blood

_Blood on the cobblestone. The sailor’s throat is split wide from ear to ear, the bottle of booze he carried mixing with the cooling blood and her own vomit._

_But she has no time to wonder if it was deserved—the clank of a guard’s armor draws near. She wipes the last of the vomit from her mouth and grabs his coin purse, taking off into the midnight streets._

_Blood in the Sanctuary—dripping down the stone walls, flowing across the mossy floor, across tables and rickety beds, in her hair, on every inch of her armor, and dripping down her blade._

_Silence now reigned. No more familiar conversation of those she’d come to call friends, even family. All that was left was the silence of her own making and the scurrying of rats as they came to feast on the corpses that remained._

_Blood on the dirt of the Arena. The Grey Prince lies in a pool that quickly begins to stink in the summer air, tear-tracks on his face and his desperate plea still ringing in her ears despite his current stillness._

_The crowd roars, but it is white noise to her._

* * *

Elaine’s eyes flew open and she instinctively bit into the pillow to muffle her cry—she was all too familiar with the terror.

As she tried to control her hammering heart and the near-hyperventilation, Martin stirred beside her, his arm tightening around her waist as he woke from a sleep more restful than her own.

“Elaine?” came his sleep-slurred whisper.

She didn’t—couldn’t—answer. All she could do was release her vice-grip on the sheets and grab at his hand desperately, hoping that somehow he would understand what has happened.

“Elaine!”

Martin sat up and quickly pulled her into him, keeping his hand firmly interlocked with her own. With his free hand he moved her hair out of her face and tucked her head under his chin, pressing gentle kisses to the crown of her head.

She didn’t cry, didn’t utter a sound save for desperate gasps for air. The words still wouldn’t come.

“You’re alright,” he murmured. “You’re here, you’re safe. Whatever you saw in the dream isn’t here anymore.”

Elaine finds her voice then—hoarse and cracked. “The blood…”

He somehow manages to hold her closer, and she clings to him. “I know. Gods, I know. But here—_now_—it isn’t real. It’s just us and it has passed.”

“And tomorrow?”

“Then I’ll still be here,” he replies. “And after it has passed it will still be us.”

She took a deep, steadying breath. Somehow Martin still smelled of old books, tea, and incense despite everything they did earlier. Her heart slowly returned to a normal pace and she no longer felt light-headed.

“Thank you,” she whispered after a long while, and he pressed another kiss into her hair in reply.


End file.
